


when nature meets nurture

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Belly worship, Caretaking, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Finger-feeding, Fluff, Food, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Fall (Hannibal), References to canonical violence, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27748120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: "Breakfast is served."
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42
Collections: We <3 Bellies - Round 1





	when nature meets nurture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CousinShelley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/gifts).



* * *

## food

/fu:d/

noun

any nourishing substance that is eaten, drunk or otherwise taken into the body to sustain life, provide energy, promote growth, etc.

* * *

_Nature_ had always fascinated Hannibal. It was why he was a trained psychotherapist, and why he knew the human body so well. It was why he could see so well inside other people's minds too, and why he knew his own so instinctively, yet in so much detail still. Where other beings knew themselves in flashes of light and colorful memories building up to make up who they thought they were, creating them through their pasts and the way it informed their present, Hannibal analyzed everything. Had intimate knowledge of his motivations, actions, and reactions, whatever they may be, at any given point in time. 

Until he met Will Graham, and even himself could only see an inkling of rationality behind what he did to the man, and why he was drawn to him so. 

Until Will Graham started seeing him, in more ways than Hannibal had seen himself before. 

Until Will Graham's eyes on him were the only reason Hannibal ever looked into himself anymore — to see what Will saw, to try and shift what Will could perceive, make it so Hannibal was the one opening the gates and not Will helping himself to the banquet of Hannibal's mind and soul. 

Years had gone by since that first shared breakfast — _"I don't find you that interesting." —_ and many more things had changed between them. Barriers, fallen. Intimacy, shared. Vision, expanded. 

Years of beautiful hurt, and blood-drenched presents. Bodies, tortured and rearranged in bouquets of limbs that made sense, only to them both, never to anyone else. Carnal gifts, made of flesh other than their own. Hints and taunts, only to see who would connect the dots the fastest, and in the most intricate realizations. 

Neither were defeated in the conquest of each other's hearts — something Hannibal had less foreseen, more instinctually gathered. 

He was Will's, as much as Will was his.

One murder, one design, had sufficed to put them in each other's ways. To draw a path that connected their lives, and consumed them whole. One design, that became multiple, that became an obsession even others could see, if not comprehend. 

"Breakfast is served," Hannibal whispered, certain that Will was awake, but not as positive he would be willing to get up. 

A grunt followed his call, and then the thin covers were moving, the sheets rearranging around Will's shape, creating new ones as they fell to his hips. Hannibal traced the edge of his teeth under his lips, watching him, inhaling the scent in the room — always so raw, like fresh prey, even though Will had never bowed down enough to become a prey. A fisherman, patient and silent, but never the prey you lure without a sense of lingering fear clinging to your back. Never the prey you kill off with one bullet, or one stab. Will could rise, had risen from such courtship milestones as Hannibal had taken to calling them in his thoughts. 

The blood that Will had shed for Hannibal once, twice, many a time and always coming back, just as Hannibal had always found his way back to Will after Will rejected him, it all came back every time Hannibal saw one of the many keepsakes of that time. Today, it was the scarring on Will's stomach, majestic in its ugliness, where Hannibal had once pushed a knife inside Will's gut, and pulled sideways. It protruded, just barely, in little knots of pink that called for Hannibal's lips, and touch, and care. 

"You're staring again," Will said, his voice as rough with sleep as it always was when he woke up, hair a mess and eyes squinting slightly. 

Hannibal gave him a sort of smile, one of the ones he couldn't contain when he looked at the other man, and contemplated how far they'd come, and how close they were now, in everything. 

"To protect and care for someone is to nurture them," Hannibal mused, "Come eat your breakfast when you are ready." 

  
  


Hannibal worked in the kitchen to keep everything at perfect temperature, turning on the coffee machine when he heard Will's feet shuffle slowly towards the bathroom down the hall, then carefully, he plated the eggs, and finally, just as Will stopped in the doorway, he laid pieces of sausage on top of them. 

Hannibal was also careful not to _stare_ too long this time, at how Will looked in the doorway of their kitchen, barely dressed, dimly awake, tousled — like he so often was, but there was a special kind of intimacy in mornings shared with someone else. He was careful, yet he failed, because Will threaded closer, with a smirk of sorts on his lips, and his arms around Hannibal's waist were firm in their embrace. 

Will's scent was like a drug, and as Hannibal turned around inside Will's arms, he took it in greedily. 

"Felt nostalgic today, I see?" Will spoke, right against Hannibal's neck — jugular kisses trailing down making Hannibal bite his lower lip. 

"Nostalgia would imply a certain regret for times past, wouldn't it?"

"And you don't miss those days? The chase?" Will drew back, the way he raised his eyebrows indicating a certain surprise Hannibal found amusing. 

"No time like the present, my dear Will."

"And the future," Will smiled at him, "Let's eat then." 

  
  


They ate in the small living room. Most rooms weren't as large as Hannibal had favored in the past, but what they lacked in space, they made up in not needing it. Two lone creatures, the two of them, and yet Hannibal could hardly bear having Will out of his sights nowadays, and if the unhinged way Will always acted like the rare times Hannibal went out for groceries and other necessary errands was to be read into, neither did Will. 

"It's delicious." Will said, just like that first time, taking another forkful of eggs into his mouth, watching Hannibal as he chewed, eyes alight now. "Thank you." He said, also like the first time. 

"You…" Hannibal started, then thought better of it, somehow, and leaned forward in his chair so he could swipe his thumb at the corner of Will's mouth. Will watched him, imperturbable. "Eggs." Is all the explanation Hannibal gave him. 

Will nodded slowly, keeping eye contact as he leaned forward too, and took Hannibal's thumb in his mouth. He licked at the food smeared on the pad of it, gave it a gentle suck, and let go. 

"Thank you," Will repeated, unmoved in the face of Hannibal inhaling louder than before. 

Hannibal nodded in turn, "Sausage?" 

If Hannibal ventured to guess why he offered, he would say Will's eyes in this moment looked inviting enough to offer him everything he had ever had — as if he hadn't done that already. The rose of his cheeks as the food started doing its part in letting his body know a new day was starting, and the pliant way Will sat in his chair, it was all very appetizing. 

Will hummed his assent, brushing a strand of Hannibal's hair away from his forehead as he did, and leaving his hand on Hannibal's lap when it was secured. The warmth of it was enough encouragement. 

With a little thrill, Hannibal picked up one of the slices of sausage he had lined up Will's plate with and brought it to the man's lips. The little grease of the frying made his fingers slippery as he presented the food for Will to bite into, and the way Will did, with appetite and closing his lips around the tip of Hannibal's thumb and forefinger, it made them even wetter. The noises that came out of Will's mouth roused the monster inside Hannibal's loins — the creature which always hungered for this man, for its mate, roared to life. 

Before Hannibal could offer him the rest of the slice, Will wrapped his lips around his fingers again and took it from him, with teeth and lips and tongue, all tickling Hannibal's resolve to be careful, and to see Will eat a full meal. 

The skin at the back of Hannibal's neck remembered these teeth, the strength of them hinted at when Will nibbled on the bumps of his spine, searching for something, finding it when Hannibal groaned in pleasure. 

Hannibal picked up another piece of the sausage, fed it to Will again, watching his mouth work as much as he did Will's eyes — searching too. 

"You're enjoying this." Will simply said. 

"Sustenance is a skill." Hannibal replied, although it hadn't been a question. 

"And a taste," Will whispered, grabbing Hannibal's wrist when the man presented yet another slice of the meat to his lips, "which you cultivate."

Breakfast went on a little longer, until Will's plate was as empty as Hannibal's was, in the sink, finished long before Will even started stirring back in their bed. 

Promiscuity was a side-effect of running away together, blood and sweat and sea-water to mark each step they took, from one safehouse to the next, walking a little straighter every time. They'd fallen into that routine easily, had fallen into bed together naturally, had found their way into each other's arms even more easily than the rest; than anything else really. There was no pain. No hurt. No manipulation. Only hands mapping bodies and lips following the same paths, and sounds Hannibal now heard in dreams, too. 

"Full." Will said, pulling Hannibal's attention back to the moment, squeezing his wrist and letting go reluctantly. Sitting back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. 

Hannibal felt the same monster inside him purr in joy at seeing the gentle glow that came off Will. He felt the same pull, the same need to touch, and so he did. Without much thought, he let his hand travel up Will's knee under the table, to his thigh, to his hip, and then splayed it wide over his belly. Full, indeed. Pleasantly taut. Satisfying. 

Will frowned, but didn't push him away. On the contrary, he put his hand over Hannibal's and pressed, not much, but enough to make Hannibal's cock stir, arousal bubbling as his possessive streak was fed, just as he had Will. 

Rubbing Will's belly over the thin material of his tee-shirt was almost as pleasant as doing it with nothing to separate his palm from Will's skin. Almost. 

"Your breathing," Will whispered, grabbing Hannibal's neck and bringing their foreheads together, "it's labored." 

Hannibal nodded, "I need to have you." He said, lips brushing Will's with the same feather-light touch he touched Will's belly. 

Words were not what he was after anymore. There would be time for them, later. Will getting up and leading the way back to bed seemed to mean he agreed. 

Will laying down in the middle of said bed with what little clothes he had had on shed off confirmed it further. His stomach formed a little bump in the otherwise lithe lines of his body, and when Hannibal kneeled at his feet, naked as well, it was with every intention of tracing it with his fingers, and lips, and tongue. 

Breakfast was served, indeed. 


End file.
